In the Company of Secrets

In the Company of Secrets by Judith Miller Page B

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Authors: Judith Miller
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condition or her profound grief .’’ She virtually hissed the final word.
    Sympathy emanated from Mr. Howard’s eyes as he pushed the wave of hair from his forehead. ‘‘You poor woman. So young to have suffered such tragedy. I do admire your bravery—setting sail and coming to a new country so soon after your loss.’’ He briefly glanced at Charlotte’s expanding waistline. ‘‘And in your present condition.’’
    Olivia heaved a sigh of relief when she saw recognition spark in Charlotte’s eyes and the smile fade from her lips. Finally!
    ‘‘I attempt to do my best under the circumstances. Even Olivia can attest to the fact that I force myself to feign cheerfulness. In reality, my grief appears to make those around me uncomfortable. And far be it from me to cause others discomfort.’’
    Olivia glanced heavenward at Charlotte’s final remark. ‘‘Mrs. Hornsby finds questions about her husband’s death most distressing.’’
    Charlotte bobbed her head up and down. ‘‘Indeed. I find such inquiries intrusive and disquieting— and a breach of proper etiquette.’’
    Clasping a hand to his chest, Mr. Howard offered a sympathetic nod. ‘‘I do understand. Perhaps Miss Mott mentioned that I lost my wife to a terrible bout of pneumonia?’’
    Olivia gulped. ‘‘No! I didn’t share your personal information with Mrs. Hornsby.’’ Apparently Mr. Howard was grieved by her oversight, for all evidence of his earlier smile vanished. Suddenly, Olivia felt required to absolve herself. ‘‘I try to avoid any talk of death with Mrs. Hornsby.’’ She leaned a tad closer and lowered her voice. ‘‘Upsetting.’’
    Her explanation seemed to appease him.
    ‘‘Yes, of course.’’ He glanced about the house. ‘‘Now, then, I must do something to aid you in locating furniture for this place. Without a proper bed to sleep in, I can’t expect our new chef ’s assistant to arrive prepared for work in the morning, can I?’’
    Olivia didn’t know if he expected an answer, but she needn’t have worried. Charlotte immediately seized upon the moment and soon parlayed their situation into a promise of furniture before nightfall. Mr. Howard departed with a purposeful stride, clearly pleased he had come to the aid of two damsels in distress—as Charlotte fancifully described their situation.
    Olivia had cringed at the woman’s behavior. Charlotte had used every advantage in her portrayal of a grieving widow. Indeed, she’d taken the role to new heights. Olivia wondered if Charlotte possessed even a smidgen of decency. Was this considered normal conduct for members of the aristocracy or simply a reflection of her ladyship’s ever-indulgent behavior? She wondered if Ludie was pleased to be free of her duties as Charlotte’s lady-in-waiting. Had the maid been assigned a new position or instructed to simply await Charlotte’s return? Olivia hoped it was the latter. After caring for Charlotte all these years, Ludie deserved a good long rest.
    Olivia climbed the stairs, anxious to be alone for a few moments. Though her bedroom was the smaller of the two, a narrow bench seat had been fitted beneath the double windows, a feature that pleased her. The men had placed her baggage along the north wall, and she hefted the smaller valise onto the bench. Surprised by a sudden urge to connect with her sparse memories, Olivia unclasped the leather strap and dug inside the suitcase. A euphoric sigh escaped her lips when she touched the smooth wood of the rectangular box. Clutching the keepsake recipe box, she lifted it from the bag and pressed the cool wood to her cheek. A poor substitute for a mother’s love, yet, along with her mother’s Bible, the only reminders she had ever known.
    Aunt Eleanor had always said she was much like her mother, but Olivia couldn’t be certain. Her father had never confirmed such facts, but then she’d seen little of him. He’d taken to drinking after her mother died—at least

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